by Rachel Shane
Brett stormed forward, unperturbed by the insects, and entered the downstairs lounge. It was heavy with a cloud of bugs but he walked right through, impervious as mosquitos chomped down on his flesh. The dorm chairs were gone but the tables remained. He lifted up one of the wooden chairs and heaved it toward the window. The glass shattered so loud, Harper’s teeth clamped shut. Sharp shards of glass stuck to the frame but Brett used the chair legs to clear them. When he spun around, he came face to face with three sets of stunned eyes. Brett shrugged. “They didn’t blockade the windows.”
And then trio crawled out of the frame, careful to avoid the edges, and into the safety of the warm night.
CHAPTER 27
BRETT
Harper’s plan was insane. It would never work.
It had to work.
She sat on the edge of the bed at the hotel room, biting her lips, her fingers trembling in her lap. His hand inched toward her, stopping just a few centimeters before he was close enough to squeeze her fingers. Assure her it would be all right. That she’d make it out of this unscathed.
But Harper was never one to relinquish control and her plan nearly took her out of the equation entirely.
“You do realize there’s one small part of your plan missing. We need to know what you want us to steal.” Poe sounded so sure, so confident, and so different from a year ago when the only thing she could scream was verbal attacks. She leaned back against her arms on the floor.
“I…can’t tell you.” Harper’s voice was low. A whisper. A secret she couldn’t bear to share with the two people she trusted least in the world. Starr had already fled to the store with her teammates to pick up as much dish soap and pink dye as they could find in addition to off-season Halloween costumes at the local party store that was open year round to cater to fraternity and sorority costumed theme parties.
“It’s the only way,” Poe insisted.
“If I tell you this…” Harper squeezed her eyes shut, heavy sighing. “Then I need something on each of you. Collateral.”
Brett’s pulse amped loud and clear in his body. He had no secrets. He was only ever good at revealing other people’s.
Poe, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. “Fine. That girl I was with before? She’s my long lost half sister. I know, very telenovela. And the dad I never knew left me a souped up inheritance that I’m probably going to lose. Don’t spread those rumors around. It would ruin my poor and loner street cred.”
Brett gasped at this news. “How much?”
“Half a mil. Well, half a mil minus whatever the tuition is here. And the $523 times two.”
“Wow,” Harper said. “Drinks on you.”
“I’m getting an apartment. Hoping to sign a lease next month as long as Valentina doesn’t sue me for everything I am now worth. Twelve hundred square feet—more than double of size of my tiny house. Don’t tell my mom that either.” She raised her brow at Harper. “Is that enough collateral for you?”
Harper’s face wavered, but then she turned to Brett, brow raised.
“Um.” There was only one thing he’d been hiding, so he took a deep breath and revealed it to the wrong person. Or persons, as the case may be. “The girl I love? The one who I thought set up the scavenger hunt?” he said and Harper sucked in a breath. “She’s so brilliant and funny and amazing and she thinks I’m someone I’m not. And…I’m not sure she’d like me if she knew who I really was.”
Poe sat up straighter. “Go on. What are you hiding?”
Brett rubbed his palms back and forth on the couch cushions. “I’ve just embellished a lot. To make myself seem cooler, smarter, funnier. She thinks I have all these friends, get straight A’s, do a bunch of extracurricular activities when really all I do is single parent my little sister and sometimes have time leftover to draw in my sketchbook.”
Harper laced a comforting hand on his knee. “You should tell her.” She sucked in a deep breath, her shoulders heaving. “Medical records.”
Brett’s mouth rounded into a shocked O. Poe perfected the gasp.
“I got a spot on the soccer team for next year. But if they find out I have a hole in my heart that could retaliate at any moment, I’ll get cut. I can’t imagine my life without soccer. I just can’t. And Connor knew that and stole my records as black mail.”
Poe’s hands curled into fists. “Fuck that. That’s even worse than the threat of naked photos.”
Brett reached for Harper’s hand, but then pulled away, second-guessing himself. “But…if it’s dangerous to play with the condition…”
She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “I’m being careful. I’m not overdoing it. It’s working fine. I’ve lived my whole life with this condition and never knew about it. It hasn’t affected me. Who’s to say it will start now?”
Brett gritted his teeth against saying, who’s to say it won’t?
“So we’re looking for a physical copy? Or digital?” Poe asked.
“Probably both, Harper said. “Though I doubt he’s smart enough to take back ups.”
“We’ll find all versions,” Brett promised.
“And take him down in the process,” Poe added.
They’d all betrayed each other a year ago. But this time, they had each other’s backs.
Twenty minutes later everyone was in position. Starr and her teammates were stationed at the water supply for Day Hall, which they accessed via the underground tunnel that connected both dorms for electricity and laundry. Harper stood about two hundred feet away from the front entrance, several amps at her side, and a microphone in her shaky hands, waiting for the signal. She was far enough away that the paintballs couldn’t reach her.
Brett’s new costume felt both foreign and oh so right all at the same time. Poe had cobbled together perfect replicas of police uniforms from the costumes Starr purchased with Poe’s funds, the way she’d done for Mumma-Mia on Halloween.
Poe had enough experience getting ready for plays that she was a pro at make up too, which she enhanced with a few prosthetics from the costume store. Brett’s nose was longer, Poe’s chin sharper. She gave herself high cheekbones and him a high forehead. It was enough to earn a gasp from Harper followed by a, “Wow. You look different.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment?” Brett replied. Because after all, wasn’t looking different the point?
“I prefer the old Brett. Sans prosthetics. Sans guyliner.”
“Really?” He sucked in a breath. Here he was again: donning a costume round the clock, embodying quirks that didn’t actually belong to him, all just to be different. It was a bridge, not a dead end. Brett couldn’t wait to rip off the wax appendages weighing down his face and go back to being just Brett.
Brett and Poe got into position behind a nearby tree and huddled around her phone, waiting for the signal. “You know how some actors try to live the role they’re playing twenty four seven, never breaking character?” she said.
“Yeah.” Brett recalled the time Poe only spoke in a British accent for four months straight and baked pies every chance she got—mostly at Harper’s house using Harper’s ingredients—after she’d landed the role of Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. He fiercely missed those days. Even if her pies were terrible.
“This’ll be my greatest role yet. Warn the Academy.”
A group text came through from Starr: all set.
Across the way, Brett spotted Harper lifting the microphone to her lips. Nothing had worked to lure Connor out of his dorm room and so they decided they didn’t need to. They just had to get inside it. And the best way to do that was via distraction.
“Connor Cunningham, I know you’re in there!” Her voice boomed loud, carrying through the quad. “You tried to ask me to Prom with a public display of affliction. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”
Shouts rang from out from within the boy’s dorm. Pink water splattered from open windows, spewing out onto the lawn like geysers. Brett and Poe huddled un
der the tree, dodging pink spray that came dangerously close. The guys standing guard outside yelped, then scattered, running with their arms over their heads to prevent the deluge of water.
“You, sir, are an asshole,” Harper continued. “The lowest scum of the earth. Lower than the gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe.”
Connor wrenched open his broken window and stuck his head out. Pink dye coated his skin, making him look like a Pepto Bismal Oompa Loompa. “Fuck you, Harper!” He slammed down the window. It wasn’t an insult. It was a stance. He would not leave the building.
But that was exactly the goal.
Poe glanced at Brett. “I think that’s our cue. Ready?”
Brett squared his shoulders. “Yes.”
Poe’s brow lifted. “Wow, no hesitation even?”
He shook his head, his chin high. “Not for this.”
Brett pointed his toy gun outward as he and Poe approached the dorm. She took confident strides, owning the role she was born to play. Brett scrambled to keep up with her. If they had to choose who would get to be good cop, there was no one more obvious than Brett.
“Move. I have a search warrant.” Poe held up a paper filled with legal jargon printed off the Internet to one of the lone guys still standing loyal in the lobby of the dorm.
He crossed his arms. “I—I can’t.”
Poe lifted her brow and reached for the handcuffs dangling from her belt. Brett did not want to know why Starr had several pairs of them in a drawer in her room. “Well then, I have no choice but to arrest you.”
Brett squared his shoulders and tried to look menacing despite the way the fake gun was shaking in his hands.
Poe stepped toward him. “You have the right to remain—”
“I’ll move!” The guy winced and then hopped aside, his fingers flying out a text that probably said something to the effect of I’m sorry, I let them in.
Or maybe he was applying for a dorm transfer.
Poe wrenched open the door and stomped inside, her lips stretching into the widest of smiles as she took in the sight. The ceiling sprinkler system poured a deluge of pink water over everything, soaking puddles on the floor, staining dorm furniture, trashing posters lining the walls. Ruining everything.
It was beautiful.
It reminded Brett of the first time he had rescued Harper when she was trapped in the locker. That was where she got the idea.
Brett and Poe tramped through the ankle-high flood. Water dripped on their faces, coating their skin and dying it the same pink as everything else.
“This is going to be a fucking awesome story to share on Monday,” Poe exclaimed.
Brett couldn’t help but bite his lip at the fact that it would be obvious he and Poe had hung out together over the weekend. The other students might think he had friends again, even if it wasn’t true. “No one will believe it. Not if it involves the three of us hanging out,” Brett joked, keeping things civil between them. A year ago, Poe had slept with Jackson and destroyed his life in the process. But now there was a part of him that understood her desperation to feel a connection, any connection.
“It’s show time.” Poe knocked on Connor’s door with the butt of her water gun just as the downpour above ceased.
“Not interested!” came the voice from inside.
“It’s the police!” Brett yelled since Connor might recognize Poe’s voice. “Open up or we break down the door.” He tried to sound authoritative. Not like the coward that was shaking in his sopped shoes.
“Go away.”
Poe smiled at this. “All right then.” She opened her backpack and pulled out the chainsaw Starr had purchased for them at Wal-Mart. She switched it on maniacally and sliced through a bit of the wood of Connor’s door. Brett placed his hand on her shoulder to help steady her as she carved a straight line through the wooden door just beside the hinge. Splinters flew everywhere, sawdust spinning in the air. The buzz screamed in his ears, energizing his veins. When Poe switched off the chain saw, Brett’s arm still vibrated. The silence returned, giving way to Connor screaming obscenities at the door.
Poe simply pushed on the wood and it fell into the room, causing Connor to scramble backward and knock into a chair.
Poe and Brett stepped inside, balancing over the wobbling wooden ramp they’d just created. Connor lifted up his hands, his face pinched in fear.
“Turn around,” Brett demanded. “Now!” Damn, it felt good to be in control.
Whimpering, Connor spun on his heels, hands wrenched high in the air. Poe happily yanked each one violently and strung it behind his back, slapping costume handcuff tightly on his wrists. Big fat tears dripped down Connor’s cheeks. “I’m innocent! I swear! Don’t arrest me, please!”
Brett hit the record button on his phone and took a forty-second video of Connor losing his shit to pieces.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Poe spat. Connor’s head snapped up, squinting in recognition at her voice. “In fact, please don’t ever talk again. No one wants to hear anything you have to say.”
Poe shoved Connor onto the soaked bed and slapped another cuff around the metal shelf affixed to the wall above his bed, locking him in place.
“You, Connor Cunningham, are a menace to society. You are being accused of several crimes.” Poe ticked off her fingers. “One, being a fucking asshole. Two, being unfit to be called human. Three, you’ve got actual crimes to account for too. Blackmail. Extortion. Attempted sexual assault. I’m sure you did something violent at some point.”
Connor thrashed on the bed, trying to get free. “What the hell, Poe? Fuck off!”
“And the worst crime of all,” Brett added, earning a squint from Poe. “Crying.”
It was a crime Brett committed often in the privacy of his home. But it was a crime that made Connor freeze when he played back the video. Poe squealed delightedly.
“Now.” Brett stepped closer, his voice grew menacing. “Show us where Harper’s medical records are and I won’t post this to everyone you know.”
“And people you don’t!” Poe added. “I’m sure Buzzfeed would be interested in an exposé on the freshman who destroyed an entire campus in one single night.”
Connor spat. “That was Harper!”
“Hmm.” Poe placed a finger against her lip. “I have a lot of witnesses that say otherwise.”
Connor thrashed again. Brett tapped the phone. “I hit send in one…”
“I have a lot of dirt on you too, you know, Blake.” Connor glared at Brett.
“Two!” Brett froze but refused to fall for Connor’s bluff. Instead his finger moved toward the enter button. “Thr—”
“Bottom drawer,” Connor yelled. “Beneath everything.”
Brett raced for the drawer while Poe kept watch on Connor. His fingers fumbled through all the papers, his heart pumping rapidly as he riffled through syllabi and handouts for classes like Rocks for Jocks. Finally, there on the bottom, he found it. Her records. His eyes traced the words for the briefest of seconds, his stomach swirling, before he hugged them to his chest. These were worth nothing monetarily but he felt like the richest person in the entire world. She’d insisted on helping him find Maya and this was the one way he could repay her.
“Computer password,” Poe demanded.
“I didn’t take a copy, I—”
“We’re not idiots.” Brett plopped into Connor’s desk chair.
Connor sighed heavily. “MrWhiskers69! Capital M and W, exclamation point at the end. But don’t delete anything else.”
“Your password is your cat’s name?” Poe fanned her face against her laughter. “Oh my God.”
“Shut up!” Connor’s face was red now, even redder than the pink dye. “I added a 69! And an exclamation point!”
“The exclamation point is the best part!”
The computer whooshed to life with the password. Brett opened a browser, which connected automatically to Connor’s email. He wasn’t sure where it was in the email but he
didn’t care. He selected every damn message in the incoming and sent boxes and deleted them all to Connor’s horrified face. Then he navigated to the hard drive and wiped that too. He even found a few thumb drives and emptied those.
The tears were real now from Connor’s face. “Please just stop.”
“Funny,” Poe said. “You’ve never listened to that command when I begged the same thing to you about your sext threat.” She straightened. “Bye Connor. Don’t forget me! I finally feel like I can forget you.”
She stormed out of the door, happy to have the last word.
Brett started to follow her but stopped in front of Connor. His hand curled into a fist that he’d been waiting years to strike. He craved the beautiful glory of finally sinking it into Connor’s flesh like he’d wanted to do a year ago but had settled for Jackson instead. Hurt Connor the way Connor had hurt him.
Connor lifted his chin. “Do it,” he prompted. “You’ll only hurt your hand. Just like at Prom.”
Brett dropped his hand to his side, spreading out his fingers. He already won the fight, he didn’t need to lose by stooping to Connor’s level.
CHAPTER 28
HARPER
Harper clutched her damp medical records in her arms, trying not to burst into tears from gratitude at her enemies, the two people who still had her back, even after she’d plunged knives into theirs. All the anger she’d felt toward them for the last year melted as they watched the real police storm into the dorm and bring Connor back out in cuffs thanks to their anonymous hot tip that he orchestrated the prank war that destroyed the campus.
“Just be careful, okay?” Brett nudged the records in her hand. “If you get hurt on the field, I’m taking the blame.”
Poe stepped under the spotlight of a campus streetlamp that illuminated the sidewalk leading to the Student Union. “He’s right. Is playing on the school team really worth risking your life?”
Harper’s fists curled, a furious scream building in her chest. She spread her legs, prepared to argue. Fight. Defend her stance. She’d nearly lost everything and now she had it back, right in the palm of her hand! It wasn’t just playing on the school team, it was playing forever. A future as a professional athlete. The possibility of the Olympics in three years. Endorsement deals and All Star games and becoming a role model for a future generation, the way Alex Morgan was for her.
